


BeetleSides Missing Moments collection

by A_Stressed_Cupcake



Series: Sanders Sides Beetlejuice AU [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: And just cuteness in general, Drowning, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Head Injury, I lied this got dark, Logan is a good dad, M/M, Mention of blood, Morality | Patton Sanders-centric, Nothing much, Patton is a good Dad, Prinxiety subtext, Roman gets a hug, Roman is Lonely - Freeform, THE FAM - Freeform, Virgil is only mentioned here, accidental self-harm???, only implied, this ties into the main story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2020-12-16 08:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Stressed_Cupcake/pseuds/A_Stressed_Cupcake
Summary: A collection of missing moments from Say My Name (and eventually act 2).From several different characters' perspective.Because I started this AU and now I can't stay away from it.





	1. Worrywart (Patton)

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Brief mentions of drowning and blood (y'all know the drill), accidental self-harm (do ghosts even count???)

Despite his near permanent smile, Patton was by no means careless or free of worries. In fact, he worried  _ way _ too much. 

There was a thin, thin line between worried and restless and, in just a few days, he had walked all over it. First of all, when he’d found out they were dead. That had been an interesting night. He had been so worried when they’d finally come out of the water: Logan hadn’t regained consciousness yet, Roman seemed to have shut down completely (he stared straight ahead with vacant eyes and was utterly despondent) and as for Patton himself, he was simply terrified. 

** _Several months earlier..._ **

He thanked every deity in existence when Logan woke up shortly after they managed to crawl out of the river. He always knew what to do. Patton was relieved to have someone who wasn’t in the middle of a mental breakdown to direct him to the best course of action. Logan immediately suggested they call an ambulance, worried by his head injury and Roman’s suspicious numbness. 

“He might be suffering from hypothermia.” he explained, “We should get him dry and then call a doctor. We can’t get him to the hospital, home is close and he might get a lot worse if he stays outside for too long.”

“It makes sense.” he nodded, rubbing Roman’s arms in an attempt to keep him warm. 

“Well, at least he isn’t shivering…” he smiled.

Logan shook his head: “That’s not good. We have to go.”

His smile died.

They reached home in less than ten minutes. Patton was trembling far more than the cold little boy in his arms: Roman had yet to say a single word. He was once again grateful for Logan. If he hadn’t told him that a lack of tremor was a bad sign, he wouldn’t have known to get Roman to a warm place immediately. 

Logan gently pried the boy out of his arms. “I’ll dry him up.” he said, “Go get changed and call the police. You look very cold.”

He didn’t really want to leave them.

“We’ll be fine.” his husband reassured him, carrying Roman off to the living room, “I’ll get a fire going. Could you bring down some clothes for Roman when you’re done?” 

“Of course.” Patton smiled nervously. 

He didn’t really want to leave them. 

As they left the room, whatever warmth he had before left with them.

His smile fell just as quickly.

Everything felt cold. Even the spare clothes he grabbed from the closet didn’t feel quite right. He didn’t really want to leave them but, now that he was alone, he didn’t want to go back.

He hoped his eyes weren’t too red.

A warm glow came from the living room, along with the slow crackling of a fire. He could hear Logan’s voice, too.

He found him toweling down Roman’s hair, quietly talking to him the way he always did when one of them was upset. A smile bloomed on Patton’s face. It baffled him how Logan kept insisting he wasn’t cute. As if they didn’t have all the evidence right there. Ridiculous.

His smile faltered when he saw Roman. He still refused to speak, apparently, and his face was disturbingly numb. 

Patton walked up to them and knelt in front of his son: “Hey, kiddo. Are you feeling alright?”

No answer. 

Logan sighed, using a corner of the towel to mop up the blood that was dripping into his eyes. 

“I’ll clean that.” Patton offered. Logan tried to object, but without much energy. He was tired too.

Logan’s wound didn’t look too bad, thankfully, but it was bleeding quite profusely. Patton made sure to clean it thoroughly with some cotton and alcohol (it was the least he could do). “I’m worried about Roman.” he admitted under his breath.

“He was just scared.” Logan whispered back, “He needs time to process what happened to us. Did you call the police?”

Patton gasped: “Oh!! I forgot!! I’ll… I’ll get on-”

A choked sob from behind them interrupted him. 

_ Roman. _

He completely forgot about the police.

“Roman, what’s the matter?” he asked, running a hand through the boy’s hair. Roman threw off his blanket in favour of hugging his dad, gripping his shirt so tightly it hurt. He didn’t look scared. He looked terrified. The way he was clutching his shirt felt like the desperate grip of someone hanging off a cliff by cold and exhausted fingers.

Patton held him tight: “It’s okay, kiddo. It’s okay. We made it out, we’ll be fine, I promise.”

That did not have the effect he’d intended. It just upset Roman even more. 

“Roman, what’s wrong?” asked Logan, placing a calming hand on his back.

“Lo, maybe we should hold off on calling the police. I...I don’t think he can handle an interrogation right now.” He bit his lip. He was concerned. 

_ Why did he react like that?? _

“They won’t pressure him to.” Logan reassured, “It was a complete accident, we made it out alright, so they should not take long.”

“I don’t wanna leave him…” complained Patton.

“You don’t have to.”

He stopped to think.

“Okay…” he conceded. “Call them.”

He didn’t let go of Roman the whole time.

“Put it on speaker.” he asked Logan, “I was conscious the whole time, I can answer more questions than you.”

“Agreed.” he nodded.

The phone rang.

_ “911, what’s your emergency?” _

“Hello?” Logan spoke up, “Me and my family had an accident about an hour ago and we’re concerned about some of the possible injuries we su-”

_ “911, what’s your emergency? _ ” the lady on the phone repeated.

Logan blinked. He repeated, louder this time: “Hello, me and my family had an accident, we-”

_ “Hello?” _

“Miss-”

_ “Sir, I’m going to hang up now.” _

“Wait…”

She hung up.

Patton choked back a whimper: “Why didn’t it work??”

“It doesn’t matter.” Logan explained, “If they don’t hear anything, they’ll send someone to check on us.”

“Are you sure?” Patton’s voice cracked a bit. He stroked Roman’s hair. The kid wasn’t sobbing anymore, but he still didn’t want to leave the comfort of his dad’s chest.

“I’m sure.” Logan nodded.

“Okay…” He took a deep breath.

  
  


To be fair, the police had indeed shown up, just like Logan had predicted. The only problem was, they hadn’t found anything at all. They hadn’t seen them, they hadn’t helped them, they hadn’t realized what had happened. 

_ I didn’t understand what was going on.  _

It had been a while. Roman’s silence hadn’t lasted long. Within a few hours he was back to his usual, talkative self, doing his absolute best to distract himself and his parents from the mess that was their afterlife. Patton appreciated it, he really did.

Ever since the new family had moved in, Roman was spending less and less time in the attic in favour of observing the new people. 

Roman was lonely, that much was obvious.

The way he hung around the new kid was the biggest clue, but everything about his behaviour screamed  _ I shouldn’t have to watch them, I should be able to talk to them, I should be alive now. _

Patton realized he’d completely botched the puppet he’d been sewing when the needle pricked his thumb.

“Ow!” he lamented, shaking his hand. “Oh, geez…”

_ I really should pay attention to what I’m doing _ , he thought.

“Yeah, that’s right!!” he exclaimed, more to himself than to anyone, “No time to mope now.”

His resolution not to prick himself anymore was for nothing, however.

The needle went right through his wrist when two screams rang out below him.

_ Ow. _

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I don't give the Maitlands enough love.  
And I had so many ideas for this AU that I simply couldn't write because I swore I'd stick to Virgil's POV and that is exactly what I'll do.
> 
> Also, I really wanted to show what Roman has only ever implied.  
And give these good parents some love after all the questionable adults we've seen.
> 
> Comments and feedback are appreciated, because the human connection can make me feel like a person again (because Thomas is very relatable okay-)
> 
> If you have any missing moments requests I'm listening!!! :)


	2. Manners (Roman)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I seem to remember Virgil mentioned manners practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Too much banter, the standard cursing and references to death (probably my least disturbing chapter yet)

Okay.

So maybe he’d expected Virgil would be a tough customer when it came to manners.

Maybe he’d anticipated him being a snarky little bastard about this whole  _ lesson _ thing.

Maybe he realized the kid would be uncooperative.

That didn’t mean he was prepared to put up with his sass for a whole afternoon.

“Okay, let’s try this again.” he groaned.

Virgil smirked.

_ I hate you so much. _

“When the guests come in, you say…?”

Virgil was having more fun than Roman thought he’d ever admit: “I say  _ hello, sorry for being fashionably late _ .”

Roman slammed his hands on the nearest desk: “For the last time,  **don’t add my commentary into your introduction** !!”

He took a deep breath: “It’s so out of character.”

“But annoying you is perfectly in character.” replied Virgil.

“You are killing my director’s heart, Virgil. You are killing me, you fiend!”

“Is this the secret to killing ghosts?” the little bastard joked, “Annoying them out of existence?”

“It better not be.” Roman warned, “I will haunt you from my afterlife. After-afterlife.”

“Oooh, I’m shaking.” Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Look,” the ghost groaned, “do you  _ want  _ to pass for a semi-normal young man or not?”

“Right, sorry.” Virgil flipped through the pages of the improvised manual Roman had typed out in about thirty minutes.

_ I worked very hard on that, you little bastard. _

_ You better follow the script. _

“Hey, Roman?” Virgil was staring at a page with a confused frown.

“Yeah?”

“Why exactly is it necessary that I learn the names and function of thirty-seven types of cutlery? We don’t even have a fifth of these at home.”

“Oh, come on!!” Roman huffed, “I spend all this time working on a manual for your uneducated self…”

“It took you thirty minutes.”

“Shut up, Virgil. I spend all this time and effort for you and  _ this _ is how you repay me?”

Virgil raised his hands in surrender: “Roman, you drama queen.”

“Yes, that’s my middle name. Roman ‘Queen’ Maitland.”

Virgil scrunched his nose: “No, it isn’t. Your middle name’s Maximilian.”

_ Dammit, dad. _

“Un-remember that.” Roman hissed.

“Etched into the data bank, Maximilian.” the little bastard grinned. 

_ OH. _

“How dare you attack me with references?” Roman gasped.

Virgil smirked.

_ Alright. War it is. _

Roman stood proudly in the air (as you do), pointing at Virgil: “Hark, foul fiend!!”

Virgil laughed. Only until a random glove landed on his eyes, that is.

Roman waited for the awkward silence to end as his friend just sat there, processing.

“What the fuck, Roman?” 

The ghost gasped like a dying Shakespeare character: “Virgil Webb!!”

“What?” Virgil muttered, peering from under the glove with one eye.

Roman huffed: “Just because I let you drop  _ one _ F-bomb doesn’t mean you can make it a habit!”

Virgil blew raspberry.

“How mature, Virgil.”

“Says the dude who sleeps with stuffed animals.”

“ **Stuffed animals help me sleep, you monster** !!” Roman screeched.

“Or... _ helped _ , I guess.” he added, quietly.

_ Dammit Roman, can you go three minutes without venting? _

He cleared his throat: “Anyway, forks.”

“Still dumb.” Virgil commented, “Next!”

“Fine. Posture. You really gotta work on that.” Roman mumbled.

Virgil shushed him.

“Seriously, Virge. Let me say, and I say it with love, that it isn’t hard to be straighter than you and yet your back still can't manage that.”

“Hey!!” Virgil protested.

“Love you too. Now, are you going to stand up straight or should I start looking for spinal implants?”

Virgil hissed.

_ Oh my sweet Cole Sprouse, he hisses like a kitten. _

"Good Lord, Virgil!! Do you always hiss?"

"Only when I'm talking to stupid people."

Roman gasped dramatically: "The audacity!!"

"Audacity is all I got going for me." Virgil mumbled.

"Uh-huh." He nodded skeptically: "Is that why you shut down when a guy smiles at you?"

"Touché."

"Anyhow. Posture. Let's try to focus for once in your life, friend." he sighed.

Virgil begrudgingly straightened his back.

"There we go, see?" Roman clapped, "It's not that hard!"

"My back hurts."

"Maybe we really should start looking into spinal implants, then. Or, you know, exercise."

"You can catch me dead on a surgery table, and not a second before." Virgil hissed.

"Jeez, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance, who's the real drama queen here?" he rolled his eyes.

"Still you."

"You're not wrong, but you are very wrong."

Virgil chuckled: "That has the exact same energy as  _ sorry not sorry _ ."

"That's because I am not sorry."

"I figured. Hey, Princey?"

Roman raised his head, curious: "Yeah?"

Virgil picked at a corner of the improvised manual. He mumbled something, spoken too softly to be heard from where he stood.

He raised an eyebrow, confused: "I... I'm sorry, I couldn't hear that, would y-"

"I said thanks." Virgil muttered, louder this time.

_ No you didn't _ , was his immediate impulse, but no. He'd actually said that.

He stood there dumbfounded for a moment.

"Uh...Roman?"

Virgil snapped him out of his temporary blue screen of death.

"What?" He asked.

"You're out the window." Virgil pointed out.

He was right. Lost in his deep thinking, he'd floated all the way to the window and was about three feet away from the balcony. Virgil stood there with raised eyebrows and crossed arms. He looked halfway between amused and  _ you're a moron _ , but then again that was pretty standard for him.

"Well  _ maybe _ I want to get some fresh air,  _ Virgil _ ." he huffed, standing above fifty feet of air and solid ground below.

"You don't even need to breathe." The little bastard pointed out.

"Well maybe I want to." Roman mumbled, crossing his arms.

_ I always forget I don't have to breathe _ .

Silence fell.

Roman waited for Virgil to speak.

He didn't, so the prince took it upon himself to remind him: "By the way, it's like 6:30 and you really should get dressed."

Virgil groaned: "Uugh, do I have to?" he asked, glancing at the clothes sitting on the chair.

"Yes. That hoodie will never pass for a stable person hoodie." Roman snarked.

"Fine." Virgil conceded, "But remember that as soon as I can change it back, I will."

"Deal." 

Virgil stared at him.

Roman raised an eyebrow.

_ What? _

_ Is there something on my face? _

"So, uh…" Virgil kept staring at him, "You gonna leave or…?"

_ Oh right _ ,  _ privacy _ .

"Ah!!" Roman gently slapped his forehead: "Apologies. I just wasn't sure you know how to wear a shirt."

Virgil glared at him: "Patronize me again, you princely prick."

"Well, gee. Thanks for the alliterative regard." huffed Roman, on his way out the door.

_ This is gonna be an interesting evening. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I love writing these two.  
Also, it's the second time they argue about Umbrella Academy references and I can't promise I will stop.
> 
> Leave a comment and tell me if there are any missing moments you'd like to see :D


	3. Nightmares (Damien)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Death and suffering, strangulation.

Every night the same.

It started out beautiful. Family movie night, just like old times. Nathan sat on the couch with that distracted smile that looked so beautiful on him. Virgil walked in with the movie he’d picked. It was always some cute but macabre animation movie (the kid had a type), a very specific genre, yet he somehow alway found a different one, every week. Nathan would remain still until Virgil was within reach, only to jump forward in a poor imitation of a lion and grab him. Tickle fights ensued, provided that Virgil didn't smack him too hard in his fight-or-flight response. Any attempt to evade Nathan had always failed, for some reason, even in his dreams, although that made sense: they were not lucid dreams he was having, he didn't ever realize he was dreaming during the first phase.

Said  _ first phase  _ started with them all curling up to watch the movie (in the dream, it was always the last they'd ever watched, without fail), and it really ended when Nathan reminded him that the popcorn should be ready in a minute.

Then, the second phase began. It would get hot at first.  _ Really _ hot. Too hot for the blankets, even.

Then his face would start itching, then it would start hurting. Burning. The faint smell of smoke would become unbearable, seeping through the walls, suffocating, overpowering all of his senses (not burning popcorn, but burning flesh), until he finally turned to his husband.

Nathan wouldn't be the same then. Because, even though his cheeks were flushed with a healthy cherry red, his eyes were glazed and distant.

_ Dead. _

He still smiled his aloof smile.

"What's wrong?" he would ask, every time without fail.

That was usually where the dream would end.

It was on the night of his engagement that the dream did not stop there.

"What's wrong?" Nathan's corpse asked, as usual.

Damien was well aware that he was dreaming. He was aware that that's where the dream would normally end. But he didn't wake up.

"What's the matter?" Nathan repeated, tilting his head to the side.

Damien scrambled for an answer: "I… uh…"

"Do you feel guilty?" 

His wandering gaze snapped right back to his husband's smiling face. Only, he wasn't smiling anymore.

"What?" Damien wheezed.

_ Why am I not waking up? _

"Do you feel guilty, Damien? You should." 

Nathan had stopped stroking Virgil's hair, his arm now laying across his son's shoulders. Virgil, on his part, was simply not reacting. His attention was still fixed to the TV in front of him.

"The nerve you have…" the phantom continued, shaking his head in disapproval, "The nerve you must have to do this is astonishing."

Damien couldn't help but back away slightly against the arms of the couch: "Nathan, I…"

" _ Six months _ ??" Nathan interrupted: " _ That _ 's all it took? That's a laugh and a half." he mocked.

He put his hands forward in an attempt to appease the apparition: "I can explain."

" _ I don't care, Damien _ ." 

It was final as a death sentence. 

Nathan turned away from him, tightening his grip around Virgil. 

"I loved you." he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss into the boy's hair, "More than anything. Anything except Virgil. You know what I wanted from you, what the  _ one  _ thing I wanted you to do was?" 

He turned back to Damien: "I wanted you to take care of him. It was a mistake to trust you with that." he hissed. Damien flinched when his grip tightened even more, not around Virgil's shoulders, but his neck. Virgil finally showed some reaction.

"Dad, that hurts." he mumbled, more annoyed than scared. 

Damien’s brow creased in a cold sweat. He swallowed: "Nathan, let him go."

"Why?" the vision shrugged. "So you can keep hurting him? No."

He…  _ it _ , whatever it was, nonchalantly moved his arm to constrict Virgil even more. The boy made a choked sound. He started clawing at Nathan's arms to get him to let go.

"Nathan, stop!!" 

Damien made a move to help Virgil, grabbing onto the spirit's arm with both hands and pulling as hard as he could. Despite their combined efforts, though, Nathan's arm didn't move an inch.

" _ You don't deserve him _ ." Nathan's voice echoed, though the movement of his lips resembled a puppet more than a living being. " _ You don't deserve to be alive. It's not fair. _ "

"Nathan, you're hurting him!!" he screamed. Virgil's movements were slowing down.

His left eye burned like hellfire. The scar flared with scorching pain, and his eyes prickled and stung with unshed water that could not put out the fire under his skin. 

He felt his lungs deflate.

"Nathan…" he wheezed, "Nathan, please- Nate…  _ please _ , he doesn't deserve this, Nate… I-"

Virgil ceased his struggles. Starved of air, he leaned his head against his murderer's shoulder. His eyes remained wide open, though, misty, slowly glazing eyes that stared at him with a silent scream. Damien didn't stop trying.

"Nate…" he repeated, once again. His voice went softer and softer as he lost his breath right along with Virgil: "Nate, I'm… stop it. This isn't you. I know this isn't you because you would never hurt him. Nathan, honey, you wouldn't." 

He shook his head quietly, biting his lip just so it would stop quivering. "You helped him up when he fell from the swing. And...and you carried him home, and bandanged him up, and gave him ice cream to make him stop crying. You remember that. Right Nathan?"

The spirit would stare at him then.

Damien's hand rested right against Virgil's pulsing neck, and the pulse was thready at best.

Only a second before it ceased completely, Damien woke up.

Every night it got worse. Every night, Nathan came closer to taking Virgil away for good. Damien hadn’t stopped sleeping, because that wasn’t how his body worked: he slept more, in fact, falling unconscious the moment he happened to find himself in a comfortable position. Remy had tried to coax the answers out of him. What was he dreaming of? Why did it disturb him so much? Why was he always so tired, was he sleeping enough? 

He lied to him about every single one of those questions. He didn’t remember his nightmares, he never did, it was probably nothing, of course he was sleeping enough…

Remy didn’t buy it, but he knew when to back off.

Immediately after the first nightmare, Damien looked for Virgil. The kid had a way of disappearing that was sometimes unsettling, particularly when he was worried about him, and he was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t watching TV or hanging out in the study or in the drawing room. 

_ Shit. _

His scar crawled like a nest of ants. He stumbled down the creaky wooden stairs to the first floor. “Virgil?” he called, hating the way his voice cracked.

He opened the front door, shuddering at the gust of cold air that stroked his cheek with icy fingers, and limped out to the porch. The wind whistled through the chimes that they hadn’t bothered to take down because Remy found them cute, little silver chimes with birds and flowers painted on the side. They looked like they’d been painted by a child. Maybe they had. Maybe that was why Damien found them so unsettling. He felt a chill up his spine every time he saw anything that had belonged to the boy. Virgil seemed to have a different opinion: he had explored the boy’s room with almost religious care to put everything back in its place, relegating his own presence to a relatively small part of the room. 

Damien sat on the first step. He was too tired to keep looking. Too many nightmares, too soon after they moved, too soon after the hospital. His legs trembled. Moving was difficult for any kid. Having a new stepparent was usually difficult too. Virgil would come around.

When he passed Virgil’s room, he heard him speaking to someone. Probably Thomas, he thought, making his way back to his own room.

_ I’d better get some sleep if I’m going to be polite to Gerard. _

He groaned slightly at the prospect. What a great night it would be.

The nightmares didn't stop after they got kicked out. 

They didn't stop while they were in the other house, looking for Virgil.

They didn't stop until he collapsed at Virgil's bedside.

"I love you." he whispered, a moment before they both fell unconscious.

When he spiralled off into Dreamland, Nathan wasn't there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can guess why Nathan's skin is so healthy-looking you get a cookie.  
Happy New Year if it's already New Year for you, we still got six hours of 2019 here :,)  
Either way, I'll see you kiddos in 2020 with more missing moments and a new AU I've been working on :3
> 
> Leave a comment to start our new year right ;)  
I love you guys

**Author's Note:**

> Because I don't give the Maitlands enough love.  
And I had so many ideas for this AU that I simply couldn't write because I swore I'd stick to Virgil's POV and that is exactly what I'll do.
> 
> Also, I really wanted to show what Roman has only ever implied.  
And give these good parents some love after all the questionable adults we've seen.
> 
> Comments and feedback are appreciated, because the human connection can make me feel like a person again (because Thomas is very relatable okay-)
> 
> If you have any missing moments requests I'm listening!!! :)


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